


it's not like I'm falling in love

by JealousMary



Series: Milex-verse [1]
Category: Alex Turner - Fandom, Last Shadow Puppets, Miles Kane - Fandom
Genre: Alex being very obviously in love, Drinking, Falling In Love, Lots of musical references, M/M, Miles being insecure, UST, Unresolved Romantic Tension, a night out that's basically a date but ofc they'd deny it is one, set around the fall of 2006, singing in karaoke, smol milex in denial, talking about music and feelings, yet another attempt to tell the story behind 505
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JealousMary/pseuds/JealousMary
Summary: Their friendship has become something really special over just a few months, and even if they can't come up with a proper name for a spark between them, there's no denying it's there. And a relaxed night out together might just make them carefree and bold enough to move past certain lines in their relationship.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Series: Milex-verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991281
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	it's not like I'm falling in love

**Author's Note:**

> I fucked up the timeline regarding The Little Flames' split and transformation into The Rascals, so let's pretend it happened in spring 2006 and not '07.
> 
> This fic wouldn't happen without Shen. Shen, I'm so glad I met you, thanks for the inspiration and the playlist! Hope you'll like the final result <3
> 
> And yes, there's a playlist of what they performed or could perform at the karaoke: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7zZOj4WZ3VqbVhQRV5VwhL?si=b5Imr9t-Q8iXzN4v1mX3ZQ.
> 
> I tried with the accents. It was the first time I attempted them and it was kinda fun.
> 
> Yes, the title is from _No.1 Party Anthem_ because I have zero creativity when it comes to titles and because this song is superior.

Alex halts singing mid-phrase and raises his hand in a stopping gesture, for the second time in front of Miles today, and, judging by Jamie’s exasperated eyeroll, for at least the fifth in total.

“What’s going on?” Miles frowns in confusion, not directing the question at anyone in particular. Jamie’s only answer is a tired sigh, and Matt probably can’t hear him on the other side of the room, so Nick responds dryly:

“His voice is not quite there today. And, well, neither is his mood.”

“He seemed so happy to finish writing this song,” Miles shakes his head worriedly, not tearing his gaze from Alex for a second.

“Yeah. He’s probably fine. It’s just this week we’ve been, basically, recording non-stop-”

“And who insisted that we do that?” Jamie interrupts him in irritation. “Alex did!” Nick gives him a pointed stare, and Jamie raises his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. We all need to calm down and rest.”

“I came just for that, in fact,” Miles manages to squeeze in, and they turn to send hopeful looks his way. “Me and my band are going out for drinks tonight. Figured it’d be more fun if y’all join us.”

Alex probably notices by now that his bandmates’ attention is elsewhere and whips his head around, looking ready to snap, but meets Miles’s eyes, and his expression changes instantly. Miles’s heart skips a beat when Alex’s face immediately lights up, and a huge smile slowly spreads over it as if a sulky frown wasn’t there moments ago. Jamie, briefly glancing over his shoulder, snorts.

“He likes you way more than us,” he complains half-heartedly, and Matt giggles from the corner.

Miles waves at Alex with a smile probably just as big, and Alex rushes out of the recording room, barely stopping right in front of him, like he almost went full-speed for a hug but held back at the last moment. Shaking his hand warmly, Miles finds himself wishing, deep down, that he didn’t.

“Hey,” Alex lets go of his hand with one final squeeze. “Didn’t expect you to drop by.”

“Hi. I was just inviting your band to go out with mine for drinks tonight.”

“About that,” Jamie cuts in with a regretful look. “I might have to pass. Planned a night with my girlfriend.”

Nick casts his eyes down. “Same here.”

Miles sighs, looking around the room. “Matt?”

“That’s gonna sound a bit lame, compared to them,” he chuckles, “but I haven’t seen my parents for a couple weeks so I’m taking a train straight to Sheffield once we’re done. Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be, it’s me who suggested this at the last moment,” Miles waves it off but still can’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

Somehow, lately he’s been enjoying the Monkeys’ company as much as (if not more than) that of his own band, but in the back of his mind, there’s always an awareness that he’s not a part of them, so, even though they’ve been as amiable towards him as it could get, at times he feels like an intruder. That stopped him from discussing these plans with them in advance, so there really is no one to blame but his own insecurities.

He turns to Alex, meeting his eyes tentatively, and is way too relieved to see the huge grin still present on his face.

“Well, I, for one, would love to,” his hand clasps Miles’s shoulder, a bit awkwardly, but lingers there, and to say that it doesn’t distract Miles from every other thought would be a lie. “If your band won’t mind me intruding, that is.”

Miles barely stops himself from laughing because explaining the reason of his amusement would be somewhat embarassing, and only glances at Alex in disbelief. Somehow, them sharing the exact same fear of not fitting in is funny, hard to believe and a little adorable at the same time.

“They won’t!” he’s not actually sure of that. Greg and Joe never spoke directly against Alex or Monkeys in general, but made it clear in some passing remarks that they didn’t appreciate the idea of their frontman hanging out with another band so much.

Miles can sort of see their point. The wounds from The Little Flames’ split are still fresh, and now, with only three people left, they absolutely cannot afford losing another member and staying a band. But understanding doesn’t change the fact that it’s been making him even more uneasy in their presence and leaving him seeking the Monkeys’ company where, ironically, he far too often feels more welcome and accepted.

He has hoped that spending this evening together would ease some tension between them. Bringing only Alex along, on the contrary, stands a solid chance of doing nothing but increasing it. But, linking arms with Alex, who’s looking way too excited for a simple night at the bar, Miles decides that he won’t let anyone make him feel excluded and unwanted.

Because somehow, their friendship has grown into something so unique and significant over just a few months that Miles is willing to protect it even at the cost of pissing off his own bandmates. Because what the hell — he doesn’t need their permission for having a friend. Especially not when that friend is Alex.

“Okay,” Nick nods, winking at Miles for some reason. “Go, then, it was about time to call it a day anyway.”

“No, wait,” Alex suddenly shakes his head. “One last time.”

Behind his back, Jamie skeptically rolls his eyes, but Miles speaks first.

“Sure you don’t wanna just have some rest?”

“Won’t be able to if I don’t try once more,” Alex shrugs. “You don’t mind waiting? Won’t take long.”

“As long as you need,” Miles assures him.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You might end up spending the night here,” Jamie points out and laughs, dodging a guitar pick Alex throws at him.

“Five minutes, and then feel free to drag me out by force.”

“Oh, I will,” Jamie says menacingly but smiles once Alex turns his back on them to return to the microphone. “At this point, I’m just curious what it sounds like in his perfectionist mind that he can’t get it right,” he whispers to Miles and strums the first chord after Alex’s signal.

Miles turns his gaze to Alex, who looks pretty worn out but somehow, more at ease, more serene than he was when Miles arrived. He takes a deep breath, and Miles stops noticing any sounds other than his voice.

“ _In a foreign place, the saving grace was the feeling..._ ”

He sounds different, too: not as raspy and breathless as before but instead, he lets each note ring through the air a little longer and gently fade out before filling the opened space with the next one, just as round and resonant. Jamie breathes out sharply next to Miles, and Miles, startled, snaps back to reality to find out that he’s not the only one entranced: they all look at Alex in slight shock from the sheer contrast to what they’ve heard before.

And not even their gazes can throw Alex off because his eyes remain closed till the very last line — and then open to meet Miles’s for a moment and drop to the ground, almost shyly.

“ _You are the only ones who know._ ”

The silence that follows remains unbroken for a few seconds before Nick finally lets out an impressed whistle.

“Where have you been hiding _that_ all day?”

Alex shrugs, smiling absent-mindedly, his eyes lingering on Miles’s face once more.

“Dunno. Took a bit too long to warm up?”

“A _bit_?” Jamie mumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Oh, whatever. That was fucking good. Thanks, man,” he clasps Miles’s shoulder for a brief moment, and Miles blinks in confusion.

“What for?”

Jamie chuckles and goes to discuss something with Matt, not elaborating, and Miles doesn’t have a chance to demand an explanation because Alex approaches him, beaming even brigther than before.

“I’m all yours now. Let’s go?”

“Sure,” they say goodbyes to the rest of the Monkeys and head outside. “That was amazing.”

Alex glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into the night already falling upon the street. The air is getting chilly, and they take their time enjoying it instead of going straight for a smoke.

“Thanks,” it’s not quite dark yet, and Miles can clearly see him blushing. “I really have no idea why I decided to try one more time, y’know? I just saw you and remembered showing you the lyrics for the first time, and... something clicked in me head.”

Miles remembers that, too: that was in the first weeks of knowing each other, and they both were a bit (or more than a bit) drunk, and Alex admitted that normally, he didn’t like the idea of showing his lyrics to anyone before they are completed into a full song, but he just wasn’t sure if that particular verse worked well, and, before Miles knew it, Alex was reading the lyrics to him, voice a bit unsteady, and asking for his opinion, and Miles just sat next to him, stunned and unsure what to say beside “it’s the best I’ve heard from you” and, for some reason, “no one has ever read poetry to me before”.

Miles glances at Alex, suddenly on the verge of asking why Alex trusted him back then, when they barely knew each other, trusted him with nothing other than the unpolished lyrics to an intimate song, and was certain that he needed Miles’s opinion, but his phone starts ringing, causing them both to flinch, ripped out of this moment. He reluctantly picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, man,” Greg says on the other end of the line. “Look, I know we planned a night out, but Joe just got his new bass delivered.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to get it on Monday?”

“Well, something got mixed up, and they delivered it today. Anyway, we figured we’d rehearse for a bit instead. Come join us in twenty?”

“I-,” Miles stumbles, slowing his pace, and frowns. “I’m on my way to the bar, actually. And I have company.”

“What company?” a trace of annoyance immediately appears in Greg’s voice. “ _Them_ again? What’d you invite them for?”

Miles stops in the middle of the street, ignoring Alex’s confused look, and sighs, starting to feel his own anger rise as well.

“No, it’s just Alex. And what exactly would be the problem if it _were_ all of them?”

“Right, just you and Alex,” Greg snorts, apparently unimpressed, and Miles barely holds back from demanding an explanation of this tone. “Listen, man, we wanna play and we will. We didn’t know you intended to drag other people along. Are you coming or not?”

He does have a point: this evening was, in a way, supposed to be about The Rascals only. Even if they didn’t discuss it explicitly, Miles knows they meant it that way but still, they’ve been hanging out with Monkeys often enough that this harsh reaction, at least to him, seems uncalled for.

He looks down in hesitation. If he came over to play with them, the tension would be gone and they’d have a considerably good time, he has no doubts. But then his eyes find Alex’s, still confused but warm, and smiling at him, and sparkling slightly in anticipation of an evening together. _Oh, for fuck’s sake_. The last thing he wants is to choose who to be a good friend to, but if, somehow, it has boiled down to this...

“Sorry, mate,” he tells Greg curtly. “Not in the mood for playing. Not tonight. Maybe you’d come to the bar, after all?” but while he’s saying this, he realizes he’s not even sure he wants them to.

“Whatever,” Greg replies with a tired sigh. “We’ll just jam for a bit on our own. Have a good time. See you Monday.”

“Greg, I’m-”

“You used to care more for our music,” he interrupts, sadly rather than bitterly, “Well, say hi to Alex,” he hangs up.

Miles stares at his phone for a few seconds before he becomes aware of Alex’s hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” they begin walking again, and Alex wraps an arm around Miles’s shoulders.

“My band… They got busy rehearsing and won’t come.”

“Oh,” Alex doesn’t sound too disappointed about that but continues to steal worried glances at Miles. “Um… Why didn’t you go to rehearse with them?”

 _Why indeed_.

“Well, I already promised to spend the night with you, didn’t I?” Miles settles for the most obvious and safe answer.

“Did you get into a fight with them just to spend the night with me?” Alex continues to press the subject, and Miles tries to look away which is not easy when their faces are that close.

“Kinda?... Look, don’t worry about it, we’ve had some disagreements lately, that’s all. They don’t get to decide who I hang out with.”

Alex doesn’t ask anything further but keeps his hand resting on Miles’s shoulder, and Miles, almost unconciously, leans into the touch as he takes out his cigarettes, offering one to Alex, and they walk, smoking, in comfortable silence.

The bar is, naturally, as crowded as you’d expect it to be on a Friday night, but they manage to find an isolated corner to squeeze into and relax, absorbing the sounds around them: clinking of glasses, loose talk and laughter around tables, distant music from the jukebox in the corner, and their own hushed voices, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

“I got three more songs almost completed here,” Alex informs him proudly, pointing at his temple. “Nearly enough for an album now. It’s bloody crazy, right? So soon after the last one?”

“It’s bloody awesome,” Miles saluts him with a glass and raises it higher. “To the next Monkeys’ album!”

“An’ to the Rascals’ debut one!” Alex echoes, taking his own glass and almost spilling the drink in the process. “Cheers.”

Miles downs the shot in one gulp and sets the empty glass down, wincing from the burning in his throat and even more so, from the fresh pang of guilt at being reminded that he left his bandmates behind tonight. Or they left him behind. It was complicated in the first place, and the amount of alcohol inside of him isn’t helping to think clearly, but it sucks anyway.

He looks up, still half-lost in thought, when Alex’s fingers suddenly brush against his own.

“Don’t worry so much. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I just-,” Miles shrugs, a bit helplessly. “S’like there are times when we get along wonderfully and times when we suddenly can’t stand each other.”

“Can relate,” Alex chuckles. “Look, me and Jamie have been at each other’s throats, like, no further than today. Doesn’t mean I won’t die for him in a heartbeat, or he, for me. Your band loves ya, too.”

“How’d you know?”

Alex entwines their fingers, absent-mindedly caressing the back of Miles’s hand with his thumb, and Miles freezes, suddenly hyper-aware of this touch but not knowing how to respond to it.

“‘Cause I can’t imagine someone knowing you for something even remotely close to a long time and not liking you.”

“I-,” Miles feels his cheeks heating up and looks away to escape that mischievous glint in Alex’s eyes for a second and collect himself. “Thank you. Means a lot that you really think this.”

Alex smiles, casting his eyes down, too, and instead of letting go of his hand, slides his fingers up to Miles’s wrist, resting them right against his pulse.

“More drinks?”

Miles laughs awkwardly, desperately wishing to get his elevated heartbeat under control, but at the same time, not really minding this touch.

“Definitely more drinks.”

Alex signals to the waiter with his free hand and, after he makes the order, Miles blurts out before he has time to freak out and change his mind:

“Is that why you showed me your lyrics back then?”

“Wha’?” Alex turns back to him, clearly having lost track of the conversation.

“To this song you were recording today,” Miles clarifies. “You did say you dislike when someone sees lyrics you’re still working on. Why, then? I can’t be the only person you like,” he means to say it with humor, but it comes out a little sadly, to his own surprise.

“I felt that… you would understand,” Alex shrugs after hesitating a bit. “Dunno how to explain. It’s just usually, I’m scared that people would try to guess what’s the finished thing gonna be like and that they would guess wrong. And then, they’d just be disappointed with the final result ‘cause they imagined something different. But you… I already knew by then that we think pretty much alike,” he smiles wryly. “So-”

“So you weren’t scared of disappointing me?”

Alex unexpectedly doesn’t answer right away, gazing at the darkening sky through the window before turning to face Miles again with a sudden vulnerability in his eyes.

“I was. But I decided to trust you and I was right,” and, before Miles has a chance to start blushing again, Alex adds coyly. “The fact that I were too wasted to feel complex emotions like fear of letting someone down helped, too.”

Miles giggles, dropping his head on the table and nearly knocking his glass over.

“To drowning our complex emotions.”

“Hell yes, I’ll drink to that.”

Alex puts the emptied glass down and flashes a carefree and unfocused smile at him.

“Come over ‘ere.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m starting to see two of you, and two of you is a lil’ bit too much.”

“Come over here yourself,” Miles tries to move in his seat, making room for one more person, but Alex shakes his head decisively.

“Don’t wanna get up.”

“You think I do?”

Alex, apparently unable in his current state to think of a good comeback, just continues to stare at him with sad doe eyes, and a few moments later Miles snorts and unsteadily stands up.

“Jesus, fine. Move,” Alex happily shifts closer to the window, and Miles plops on the couch next to him. “Have you been practicing that look?”

“Maybe,” Alex bites on his bottom lip, clearly supressing a smile. “Ask me bandmates about that.”

“If I remember it in the morning, sure.”

“I’m counting that you don’t,” Alex smirks, and Miles half-heartedly pushes his shoulder, and Alex grabs onto his sleeve to keep his balance, drinks another shot and, instead of letting go, moves closer until their shoulders are pressed together, leaning on Miles a bit.

“‘Nother round?”

“You sure you didn’t have enough already?”

“Did you?”

Miles considers the question seriously for a bit.

“No,” he admits. “But slowing down wouldn’t hurt.”

“Agreed,” Alex sighs contentedly. “Feels too fuckin’ nice. Wanna make it last.”

Miles laughs at his slurred speech and turns a little, making it more comfortable for Alex to rest his head on his shoulder. Alex murmurs something vaguely resembling a “thanks” and closes his eyes.

“What ‘bout you, though?” he mumbles after a long moment of silence, gently nudging Miles’s side with his elbow.

“What about me?”

“Are you working on any new songs?” when Miles doesn’t reply, Alex opens one eye and huffs impatiently. “C’mon, all we’ve been talking about lately is _my_ music. Spill somethin’ about yours, I’m curious.”

“Well,” Miles sighs in surrender, “there are a couple of tunes that might turn out good. I just… I can’t exactly show them to you ‘cause I started with melodies, not lyrics.”

“Chords,” Alex demands, and Miles giggles.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I might forget to ask you to play it for me, so gimme something right now.”

“Okay,” Miles chuckles, turning his head, lips almost touching Alex’s ear as he whispers the chord progression to him. Alex frowns in concentration, moving his left hand along the neck of an imaginary guitar, and Miles wonders whether he does it consciously.

“I like it,” Alex finally nods, smiling to himself. “Dramatic.”

“And then in the solo, it goes F-C-Dm.”

“What’s it about?”

“M-m. That’s the hard part,” Miles admits reluctantly. “M’not really good with stories behind songs. To me, these melodies are, at most, a feeling.”

“What feeling is this one, then?”

“A missed chance. Like trying to achieve something an’ being just a fraction too late.”

Alex stares into space, eyes wandering, like in a search of someone.

“I would make a character out of this,” he finally says, glancing at Miles with a glint in his eye.

“I’ve no doubts you would.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he turns to Miles, all his sleepiness seemingly gone. “A man with many regrets roaming the world to escape them, but unable to find his peace.”

“I literally only gave you a chord progression,” Miles laughs, shaking his head, and Alex gestures at him to be silent.

“How ‘bout _his dignity splits to unveil_ \- hm, just a sec-, _his bitter sweetness_?” he hums a simple melody, indicating a chord with a raised finger. “Wait, d’you have any paper to write it down? Hey, stop laughing at me!” he playfully hits Miles on the arm, and Miles catches his wrist, squeezing slightly.

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m- Fuck,” he looks at Alex with a mixture of shock and admiration, “how can you even make that up on the spot?”

Alex immediately blushes, ducking his head.

“Sorry, got carried away.”

“Well, don’t be, ‘cause I love that lyric! It’s just… I’m definitely more comfortable sticking to the melodies. That’s why I don’t tell you as much about my music, I need to play it. Honestly, you’re a much better songwriter than I’d ever be,” he trails off, realising that Alex is looking at him with his mouth slightly open, taken aback. “That came out wrong. I’m not asking to be complimented.”

“But you deserve it,” Alex says almost sternly. “I’ve heard your melodies and boy, can you play guitar.”

“Did you just indirectly quote Bowie’s lyrics?”

“Maybe,” Alex blinks, looking slightly confused. “Sometimes I do that by accident.”

“Me, too,” Miles confesses in a whisper, and they both giggle.

“Anyway, my point is,” Alex, somehow, manages to continue speaking through the laughter, “you’ve got real talent, Mi, and don’t you worry about the lyrics. If you don’t like writing them, I’m sure one day you’d find someone who does. Someone who’ll love doing it for you.”

He grabs another drink, raising the glass, and Miles clinks his own against it, nodding in a silent salut.

“Maybe I already have,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet that Alex can’t hear it over the chatter and music around them.

Alex sets his glass down, looking excited about something again.

“What’s your favourite Bowie song?”

“Want me to list them alphabetically or chronologically?”

“Nah, c’mon, pick one.”

“Now you’re just being cruel,” Alex keeps mercilessly staring at him, and Miles sighs. “Fine, heaven forgive me for choosing. _Moonage Daydream_.”

“That’s a solid one,” Alex nodds approvingly.

“What’s yours? Don’t give me that look, you saw it coming.”

“Fair enough,” Alex mumbles and lowers his gaze, suddenly looking embarassed. “God, this is a generic choice but… I love _Space Oddity_.”

Miles smiles at him reassuringly.

“Can never go wrong with _Space Oddity_. Damn, haven’t listened to it in a while,” he leans back, closing his eyes, and hums quietly, “ _Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles…_ ”

“ _I’m feeling very still_ ,” Alex immediately joins him. “Better not ‘ave me singing when I’m that drunk, though, or you won’t be able to shut me up.”

“Warning taken,” Miles nods and grins mischievously. “There’s a karaoke bar a block away from here. Just sayin’.”

“You-,” Alex gapes first at him, then at his watch. “It’s nearly 2 am!”

“Uh-huh.”

“An’ we’re drunk out of our minds.”

“Yep. So, wanna go?”

Alex stares at him in disbelief for a few more seconds while Miles desperately tries to keep his laughter contained, and finally sighs.

“God, yes.”

* * *

For some unfathomable reason, no one else appears to be in a singing mood in the middle of the night, and the karaoke bar is empty save for them and a very tired-looking night shift manager. Alex is almost sympathetic for him, but on the other hand, too drunk and happy to care. Next to him, Miles hums thoughtfully, flipping through the repertoire which, surprisingly, seems more than fairly decent, and Alex giggles, trying to read the songs’ titles as they blur before his eyes.

He sways dangerously to the side, and Miles’s hand catches his elbow just in time.

“We can come back another time if you want,” he suddenly offers, not letting go for a couple more seconds. “When there’s actually someone to listen to us.”

Alex shakes his head, grinning at him.

“Who cares? We sing for people enough as it is. Tonight is just ‘bout us,” that comes out not quite the way he intended. “I mean,” he stares directly at Miles, hoping that it would somehow activate his thought process, but the right words fail to come, and he waves it off. “Whatever. I jus’ wanna hear you sing.”

“Alright,” Miles chuckles, his eyes locking up on something on the list. “Here goes, baby,” he winks at Alex and walks over to the manager to request a song.

Alex gives him a questioning stare as he takes the mic, but Miles only looks away, biting down a smirk, and Alex understands the reason for it with the very first chord.

“Hey, I wanted to sing it, too-”

“ _I’m an alligator_ ,” Miles’s amplified voice drowns him out, and Alex can only express his protests through an indignant stare. “ _I’m a mama papa coming for you…_ ”

Alex has to admit to himself, at least, that Miles sings it well, with just the right amount of Ziggy Stardust fleur without turning into a shameless rip-off and nailing every single note. Miles flashes a grin at him, making Alex realize he started dancing along, and Alex flips him off, although not really pissed off anymore because he doesn’t have the heart to be while listening to this song.

During the entire solo, Miles plays air guitar with such intensity that Alex begins to worry if he’d actually forgotten he doesn’t have a real one right now and, when the song is over, jumps down from the stage with a wide smile.

“How was that?”

Alex leaves him hanging for a few seconds, keeping his face completely blank, but eventually lets a warm smile spread over it.

“I might even forgive you for stealing it from me.”

Miles sticks his tongue out at him.

“You’re the one who made me choose a favourite song, don’t be so surprised that I wanted to sing it, now.”

“Fair enough.”

“Al’ight, your turn,” Miles clasps his shoulder. “You’re going for Bowie as well?”

Alex deliberately looks away from his curious gaze.

“Stick around to find out.”

Maybe his spirit of competition kicks in, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but suddenly Alex finds himself wanting to really impress Miles. Normally he probably wouldn’t dare to do this one, but for the moment, dizziness from the booze makes him carefree and drowns out the fear.

And even if he won’t be able to pull it off, Miles’s face when he hears the intro makes it already worth it.

“ _Let’s dance — put on your red shoes and dance the blues…_ ”

Even from a distance, he can see Miles gulp and his face change: there’s a certain look, a glint in his eyes that Alex has never seen before, and he can’t look away, mesmerized by this new feeling, a different kind of spark between them, unnamed yet but even more fascinating for it. Alex’s body starts moving on its own accord, hips swinging slightly to the beat, fingers gripping the mic more tightly. Hair falls in his face, and Alex slowly, even deliberately raises his free hand to brush it out of the way, and Miles’s eyes trace his every movement.

Even singing suddenly feels different — Alex, maybe for the first time in public (even if said public is only two people, one of which is thouroughly wasted), dares to let his voice flow higher freely instead of hiding behind strained and screamed notes, and it feels so natural that in the back of his mind, he wonders why he’d never done it before. His voice stops being in a battle of loudness with the backing track and instead, fuses with it harmoniously, and Alex can’t help a happy smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he throws his head back at the end of the chorus, triumphantly and effortlessly hitting the note.

“ _...and tremble like a flower!_ ”

Miles seems to shout “yes, baby!” from somewhere below, but for the moment, Alex can only hear the echo of his own voice and the pulse of the music perfectly matching his heartbeat.

He’s never felt _this_ exhilarated while performing. Not once. This state of euphoria doesn’t even let him worry if he’d ever feel it again — until the end of the song, it’s just music, and Miles’s shining eyes, and the feeling of pure bliss.

He nearly falls after jumping down, his mind too busy to care about coordination, and Miles has to catch him by the shoulders, his look instantly turning worried, but Alex just giggles and spontaneously pulls him into a hug, hiding his laugh in Miles’s shoulder. Miles’s arms circle around his waist, probably just to keep him steady, but Alex can’t help relaxing into the warm and comfortable touch.

“Was that any good?” he mumbles shyly, and Miles playfully hits the back of his head.

“Fuckin’ kidding me? You need to do this. Like, in a real gig.”

“Remind me again when we’re sober.”

“So you’d say no?”

Alex pulls away from him, grimacing slightly.

“Prob’ly. But you can still try.”

“You bet I will,” Miles promises a bit menacingly, but squeezes him tightly around the middle before letting go.

Time, somehow, refuses to flow normally and seems to move by bits and fragments that stick in Alex’s memory. One moment Miles is, apparently, having the time of his life, repeteadly screaming “ _if you’re lonely, you can talk to me_ ” right at Alex, the next, Alex is on stage again, no longer able to resist the Strokes’ fanboy side of himself and putting all of his drunken passion into “ _believe me, this a chance_ ” as if actually trying to convince Miles into something. At some point, he briefly wonders how they are in any state to remember the correct lyrics and whether they are even singing the right ones, but to him, at least, not a single line feels out of place.

But however perfectly everything goes, it does get a bit exhausting.

“Nice one,” Alex gives Miles a fist bump — it was, indeed, a solid performance of _Paint It Black_ , or at least seemed so to him. “How ‘bout we call it a night? I’m old and tired.”

Miles laughs at him, ruffling his hair playfully.

“Last one, okay?”

“Sure. You ‘ave something specific in mind?”

Miles points at something in the songs’ catalogue, and Alex leans closer, trying to focus his vision until he can finally read the title.

“Y’know this one?” Miles glances at him, with sudden uncertainty in his voice, and Alex grins widely.

“Sure I do.”

“Wanna do a duet?”

Alex looks back and forth between Miles and the stage, as if hesitating, although he already knows there’s no way in hell he can refuse this offer. He nods, and the slightly nervous look in Miles’s eyes immediately turns into an excited one. He climbs back on stage and stretches his hand out to Alex, helping him up.

Even though this song is not exactly the one you can sing without, more or less obviously, addressing someone, Alex doesn’t plan to sing it to Miles — that is, until their eyes meet and lock firmly in place. Miles dances along to the upbeat intro, eyes sparkling, and comes in first, so strong and confident that Alex is worried for a second he won’t be able to match that.

“ _Now, if you feel that you can’t go on…_ ”

Alex’s heartbeat inexplicably speeds up, threatening to drown out all the other sounds, and his hand is shaking slightly when he raises the mic to sing the chorus together with Miles, but just as they hit the first note in unison, he calms down because they actually sound nice in a duet and because however good singing alone has felt, singing together feels even better, their voices resonating through the air and, it seems, even through his bones.

Miles lets him sing the second verse alone, and Alex easily takes the lead, now willingly holding Miles’s gaze — and when the “ _reach out_ ” part comes, he doesn’t even try to resist the desire to actually reach out with his hand. Miles mirrors his movements, and their fingertips touch for the briefest moment, and Alex can swear that Miles’s grin, already impossibly wide, gets even wider at that.

And, however big a promise the chorus is making, this time they can’t help singing it like they mean it.

“ _I’ll be there to love and comfort you…_ ”

Normally, Alex doesn’t even like duets. Surely not drunken duets in an empty bar in the middle of the night, and surely not when it’s a song that emotional. Oh, that’s right — he doesn’t really like singing straightforward love songs, either, because he never knows where to look and who to direct them at. But this night, this particular moment makes him question a damn lot about the things he does and doesn’t like, because it’s safe to say this duet feels like something special. Something he really hopes he’d be able to experience again.

The song ends, and they lower their mics, moving in sync, but can’t tear their eyes from each other for a few more long moments. Then, someone starts clapping.

Alex glances around his shoulder, giving the manager a bewildered stare — the guy only chuckles and yawns.

“What? I gotta hand it to you, you two can sing. Even if you picked one hell of a time to do it.”

“Thanks,” Miles laughs awkwardly as Alex fails to respond, and looks down, switching the mic off. “We’ll be going now, don’t worry.”

“Do come again,” the manager snorts. “Just… Maybe during the day, y’know?”

“We’ll see ‘bout that,” Alex smirks, putting his jacket on and heading towards the exit after Miles. “G’night.”

“Goodnight to you, too,” he chuckles behind their backs.

The street is empty, chilly and dark — as far as Alex can tell, it’s still night but there’s not that much time left before dawn, even with the summer long over. Miles shivers next to him, popping the collar of his coat and looking around cluelessly.

“Whose place is closer to ‘ere?”

“Matt’s, actually, but he’s probably long asleep in Sheffield by now.”

“Joe’s not too far, either, but,” Miles shrugs uncomfortably. “I’d rather not bother me bandmates tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“I get it,” Alex briefly squeezes his shoulder. “S’okay. You know what,” he turns around to glance at the street sign, “I believe there’s a hotel up the street. We can crash there.”

“Fine by me.”

They start walking, a bit unsteadily, their shoulders bumping into each other slightly with every step. Alex doesn’t even feel tired at the moment but knows it’ll catch up to him the second he lies down.

“Thanks,” he whispers, his voice almost getting lost in the rustling of leaves above their heads.

“Wha’ for?”

“Tonight,” he says simply, shrugging. There are more sides to it than he can ever hope to describe with words, especially right now, so he doesn’t even try. Judging by Miles’s small soft smile, he doesn’t need to, either.

“You’re welcome. And thanks, too,” he sighs, shifting even closer to Alex, pressing their sides together. “Wanna do it again sometime?”

“Absolutely.”

They are definitely pushing their luck by barging into a hotel in central London at nearly 4 am and blindly trusting it to have free rooms, but their luck seems to be unbelievably strong tonight because, as the receptionist informs them, there’s exactly one suite left.

“There’s only one bed, though,” she points out, giving each of them a sleepy warning look, and they only shrug.

“At this point,” Miles turns away to let out a huge yawn. “I don’t care if I’m sleeping on the couch, on the floor, or in the same bed as you. Jus’ need to get, y’know. Horizontal.”

Alex giggles, taking the key and thanking the lady with a nod. They head towards the elevators.

“Same. I’ll be out cold the second I lie down. Like, anywhere.”

The light in the elevator seems far too bright even though it’s probably not, only further proving his point, and Alex hisses quietly, covering his eyes.

“What floor?” Miles’s hand hangs mid-air, reaching for the buttons.

“Um… Fifth,” Alex briefly glances at the key. “We got room 505.”

The room is, of course, on the furthest end of the hallway, and they tiptoe their way through it, hoping not to wake anyone up. Alex manages to open the door on the second try, which is a pretty remarkable achievement, and they stumble inside, kicking their shoes off sloppily. There might be only one bed in the room, but it looks like the most welcoming thing in the world — Alex glances at Miles to find the exact same sentiment in his eyes and chuckles quietly.

“You good with sharing?”

“Sure.”

Alex takes off his jacket and all but collapses on his side of the bed, nearly drifting off to sleep this very second, the only thing to keep him slightly awake being the sound of Miles fumbling around with taking his coat off, settling in, and suddenly giggling.

“What’s funny?” Alex mumbles, barely forming the words.

“Nothin’,” the other side of the bed sinks under Miles’s weight. “Just a weird night. In a good way. Gotta enjoy it to the last moment before a morning of regrets comes.”

Alex opens one eye, reluctant but unable to help his curiosity.

“Why? What regrets?”

“Well,” Miles props himself up on one elbow, sighing and looking up to the ceiling. “I don’t think I ever showed this side of me to anyone. And, uh, the songs I attempted? Sorry if they’re ruined for life for you now,” he snorts, covering his face with his hands.

Alex, despite the overwhelming desire to drift off to sleep, snaps his eyes wide open at this.

“What the hell, Mi?” he reaches out to move his hands out of the way and look him in the eye. “You have an amazing voice and stage presence. This was by far the best time I’ve had this month and I’ve got no regrets. You better not start ‘aving them, too,” he means to be stern but the corner of his mouth curls up involuntarily.

“Really?” Miles looks up at him, frowning in confusion, and Alex almost laughs because he is so obviously way sleepier than he’s trying to show.

He lets a real smile form on his face and squeezes Miles’s wrist.

“Really.”

“Wow. I mean, thanks. I mean, you did great, too. Could totally picture you bein’ in The Strokes with the way you sing their stuff,” and now it’s Alex’s turn to blush and cast his eyes down. “I mean, we definitely should do this again.”

“Yeah,” Alex nods, sighing contentedly and falling on his back, letting his heavy eyelids finally close.

Half asleep already, he vaguely feels Miles shifting closer and, without giving it much thought, pulls him in possessively, one arm across his torso, Miles’s back to his chest. Miles makes a small surprised sound and moves a bit, pressing their bodies even closer together.

“Would ask why you’re doing this but I’m sleeping,” he mutters barely audibly, his breaths already getting deep and steady.

Alex can’t bring himself to make a single sound in response — he just puts his forehead to Miles’s shoulder, hugs him a bit tighter and falls asleep before he can ask himself the same question.

* * *

“Mi,” Miles turns to him, questioning look on his face. “There’s this new song that I want you to play guitar for.”

Miles blinks at him in clear confusion, and Alex casts his eyes down, fiddling with the notebook in his hands — he finished the lyrics the other night after finally coming up with a good opening line, and the melody has been stuck in his head for a good couple of weeks. The album is almost finished by now: this will probably be the last song that’ll make it on the tracklist, and the only one they haven’t got to recording yet.

“Me?” Miles echoes. “Why me?”

Alex wishes he could explain it in a way that would make sense at least to himself. Or at least, in a way that wouldn’t require bringing up their karaoke night from about a month ago.

They woke up well past noon, Miles still in Alex’s arms, awkwardly untangled themselves from each other, laughed it off and went on with their lives — Miles got significantly busier with The Rascals’ recording sessions, Alex had plenty of work left for the Monkeys’ album, too, so they haven’t seen each other much lately. They’ve never brought anything from that night up: not the lyrics Alex suggested for Miles’s song, not the idea of doing a Bowie cover, certainly not the night talk and sleeping together.

Maybe Miles has forgotten a large part of it all, maybe he, just like Alex, didn’t know what to say, and Alex doesn’t dare to speak first and find out, either.

A couple of days after that, he started writing a song — the kind that he’d always wanted to try writing but usually ended up stalling, an openly heartbreaking and emotional kind. The melody, he had down in two or three nights, the lyrics were more a struggle than usual as he was trying to shape them into something truthful yet still poetic, but mainly, they were ready over a week. The opening line, however, was a bit of a nightmare. He just couldn’t get it simple enough, or powerful enough, or, even if he was satisfied with the previous two, it turned out lacking the correct rhyme or meter.

So eventually, he gave up and wrote down the first thing that came to his mind – the one that was on his mind from the start and that he stubbornly refused to exploit for a ton of reasons. It seemed weird, it seemed too out of context, it felt like it might have been implying something Alex wasn’t sure he wanted to imply. But then, as he looked at the entire thing, he knew that it fit too well and that he wouldn’t be satisfied with any changes.

And he also knew something more important – something that was too late to be denied, but no less scary for that.

What's he supposed to tell Miles, now? _Because I wish we met earlier and were in the same band? Because this song wouldn’t be born without the night that we can’t even talk about, and I think I might know why?_

_Because that night finally made me realize I like you more than a friend?_

“Al?” Miles frowns as Alex stays silent for too long and tries to catch his gaze.

Alex gives him a nonchalant smile and clasps his hands together, so they’d stop shaking like he’s back to being a shy teenager in high school, gathering up his courage to ask a cute girl from his class out.

“It’s lacking a memorable riff,” he shrugs, “and I think you might help me figure out what it should sound like.”

“Okay,” Miles doesn’t look entirely convinced, but nods anyway. “Show it to me, then.”

“‘Course.”

Alex picks up his guitar, strumming a random chord absent-mindedly, and sighs, discarding the last opportunity to pretend that nothing has changed between them. _If you wanted to ignore it, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can._

“Here goes,” he looks up at Miles, wishing he could do something to slow down his heartbeat. “Just listen closely, okay?”

“I will,” Miles nods reassuringly, and Alex absorbs the caring, attentive expression in his eyes for a few seconds before closing his own and countning the rhythm in his head.

 _One, two, three, four_ — and no turning back.

“ _I’m going back to 505._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I originally planned for them to do a duet of Bowie at the karaoke but then The Jaded Hearts Club released _Reach Out_ and had me addicted to it, and I couldn't stop imagining Miles singing it to Alex, so.
> 
> The song that Alex spontaneously comes up with lyrics to is _Hang the Cyst_ , musically quite similar to The Rascals - Is It Too Late?.
> 
> The songs explicitly mentioned in the karaoke scene are:  
> David Bowie - Moonage Daydream  
> David Bowie - Let's Dance  
> The Beatles - Hey Bulldog  
> The Strokes - Trying Your Luck  
> The Rolling Stones - Paint It Black  
> The Four Tops - Reach Out (I'll Be There)


End file.
